


fight or flight

by kismetics



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji makes a brief appearance, Falling Out of Love, Kozume Kenma is a Good Friend, Kuroo Tetsurou is Bad at Feelings, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Mess, M/M, Sad Ending, breaking up, kuroo probably has some anxiety issues here idk i was just projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kismetics/pseuds/kismetics
Summary: Wherein Kuroo Tetsurou gets a confession, learns how to love, then learns that love isn't real.('I wish I'd never met you,' and, despite it being the truth, it feels painful to say. More than anything, he wishes he could believe himself when he says those words, wishes the bitterness and the sadness and the tiredness were enough to overcome the love and the longing, but not apparently.)
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou
Kudos: 24





	fight or flight

**Author's Note:**

> my brain crafted this idea thinking of the song but the fic doesn't even follow the storyline of it uhm,,, ANYWAYS this starts slow but the angst is good ok i just idk how to write romance ew

" _Let's date!_ "

It is said so casually, Kuroo almost says yes out of pure instinct. Instead, he stays in place without moving an inch, in surprise, staring at his _second_ best friend with wide eyes, mouth open and gaping in surprise as he tries to form a coherent sentence that would count as an acceptable answer. Finally, after many, many long seconds, his body snaps out of it and he manages to say a few words in a raspy voice.

"I— uh, what?" Tetsurou blinks rapidly, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides nervously. This is the first confession he's ever gotten, apart from that one time in middle school a girl got dared by her friends to ask him out. Bokuto nods happily, grabbing both of his hands with his own, leaning into Kuroo's personal space.

"I said: let's date, Kuroo! I really like you!" he clarifies with a toothy grin, that quickly disappears into a vulnerable frown, his golden eyes shining with unshed tears. It's admirable how quickly his mood can change, physically too. "Unless you don't like me back? Kuroo, did i just ruin our friendship?" he wonders out loud in a whisper, voice broken and filled with despair as he hunches over, his hair deflating and giving the illusion that somehow, along with his mood, it falls too.

Tetsurou's head is spinning, overwhelmed, mind filled with countless ways to console Koutarou, but there's one word that remains at the front of it all, most definitely guiding his actions: _fuck_. He's not actually good at dealing with Koutarou when he gets like this, and usually just some praise will make him recover during practice, but this is not practice. This is a confession. His teammates aren't here either —it would have been awkward and embarrassing if they were, anyways, but they could have helped him console Koutarou in that moment—.

He just had a confession. A very good confession. One that maybe, despite not having considered a relationship with Fukurodani's over excited owl before, Tetsurou might be willing to accept. But, first and foremost, he needs to stop said owl from crying, so he wills his tongue to move, his jumbled brain quickly forming sentences to help his friend feel better.

"No, man! Really I— sorry! You just caught me by surprise, is all," a small smile makes it to his face, and Tetsurou feels a hot blush coloring his ears red as he stares down at Koutarou, suddenly feeling bashful. "You're… really cool, Bokuto. And pretty, and strong, and good at volleyball, and cute. I wouldn't be able to say no even if I wanted to," he laughs, all awkward and nervous, but Koutarou only takes it as a challenge, getting closer to his face.

Now that he is, in fact, thinking about it, Koutarou is really, really close, and looking extremely handsome too. Dear God, control yourself Tetsurou. Not the right time to be fantasizing about those plump lips and strong arms.

"But you don't want to say no, right? You want to date me?" he goes a little starry-eyed at that, deflated hair springing back up somehow. Tetsurou has already given up on trying to understand the physics behind bokuto's hair long ago.

"Mhmm… Yes, Bokuto, I want to date you," he answers, giving a full smile now, amused and confident. Koutarou squeals, flinging himself entirely to Tetsurou's chest, limbs flailing fruitlessly until they latch onto Kuroo's body. Bokuto raises his head, finally, kissing tetsurou hard on his cheeks before moving around to kiss the other parts of his face.

Let's see… A kiss on the cheek for affection, was it? Then, a kiss on the forehead for admiration and respect; a kiss on the eyelids for endearment and fun, and a kiss on the nose for…

He can't remember what that one was for. But it's not like Koutarou has any actual intention —other than showing his excitement— behind his actions.

Playful, he turns his face around before Koutarou can get to his lips, earning a protesting whine in response. Tetsurou laughs, raising his arms and setting them around Koutarou's neck; almost immediately and on instinct, the other responds by pressing his own, big hands on either side of Kuroo's waist, and he almost melts in the touch, relinquishing the way the warmth of Bokuto's hands seem to seep through their clothes and into his skin.

"Take me to a date first, Bo," he murmurs against the other's lips, noses touching. His eyes are half closed, the amber of them almost swallowed whole by the endless sea of black that are his dilated pupils, but he can still see Koutarou's reaction to his words, and it ignites a flame inside of him.

Bokuto's eyes widen slightly, and then they slit, giving him the appearance of a bird of prey. He looks hungry, but not for food exactly, and excited as a blush creeps up his neck. All the while, his hands tighten around Kuroo, pulling him in, closer. There's not an inch of their bodies that isn't touching, and he feels like he might combust because of how hot he is. Regardless, Tetsurou leans in the touch, and Koutarou nestles his face in the crook of his neck, groaning. The puff of hot hair against such a sensitive part of himself makes Tetsurou shiver, and goosebumps run across his body.

"This weekend, please," Bokuto whines. Kuroo makes a show of pretending to think it over, considering it. Koutarou only huffs and groans more, curling more around tetsurou until he can barely breathe.

"Fine! Fine," finally, he agrees, and Koutarou only parts to yell out a whoop of victory before he leans in to kiss Tetsurou on the cheek again. "Just nothing fancy," it's a stupid request, because Bokuto is everything _but_ fancy and he will probably just take them to a public gymnasium to play volleyball or something. Still, something about the way Bokuto just nods enthusiastically makes Kuroo's heart ache with adoration.

He hides his face on Koutarou's hair before the other can notice his growing blush. God, he's such a nerd.

.

.

.

Koutarou does not take them to a public gym to practice volleyball. Instead, Tetsurou finds himself being dragged into a escape room by his _boyfriend_ — the word still causes him to feel giddy and all mushy inside, but he couldn’t care less. In front of them, the organizer of the event explains what’s going to happen, the rules, that they won’t be left completely alone, that they can ask for clues and that if they struggle more than three hours they’re going to be let out by the staff there. All in all, it sounds good and safe, but Tetsurou is a still little bit scared that they are going to need that help.

He is, after all, smart and observant and maybe perceptive, but Koutarou just keeps stealing all of his attention and he really doesn’t want to go through the embarrassment of _his_ stupid owl telling Morisuke about this, if they end up failing magnifically.

He feels the grip on his wrist loosen, and Koutarou’s hand softly travels down to grip his own. The tip of his ears are red when the organizer leaves, locking the door behind her, and Kuroo doesn’t waste time, pulling the other in for a quick hug to hide his face in his hair, before breaking apart, not without a small peck on the cheek.

“Bro, if you keep doing this we’re never gonna get out,” Bokuto complains, now fully red. Kuroo laughs a little at his words, letting his eyes roam around the room.

“Don’t call me bro now that we’re dating. that’s like, not romantic at all.”

“But you are my bro,” the owl whines, and the other just sighs through his nose, focusing on the only outstanding thing on the place.

A painting on the wall.

If the escape room was done right, and like in the movies it was super complicated, then he supposed that that was there specifically to catch the attention of the victims, so he just glances at it and then moves on to the most unsuspecting thing in there. The room is supposed to be something like a bedroom, with their escape being a door to their left that looks like it opens to reveal a closet, so it’s either the bed or the bedside drawer. He’s still not sure what, exactly, they have to find, but judging by the looks of it, probably a key.

“Br— Kuroo! look at this cool painting! Doesn’t it look suspicious?” Koutarou's voice makes him look up, startled, only to find him pointing at the exact same thing he discarded not long ago.

Still, he himself can't help but nod, face serious as he thinks of what to say that wouldn't make the other get sad. He sets on saying the truth, in the end.

"Yeah, it really is eye catching. I was thinking that it was something, too," he answers just a tad bit too late, if the way the other blinks and frowns is any indication. Still, he keeps going, if anything as to get rid of a possibility. "Try checking behind it if there's something," as he says that, tetsurou kneels down in front of the bedside drawer, checking to see if the cabinets are unlocked.

He thinks Koutarou says something from behind him, but doesn't pay too much attention, only humming in response. Tetsurou's brain is working, completely focused on _getting out_ , so it's only natural of him to stand up with a cheering ' _whoop!_ ' when he finds the key inside the third drawer.

Koutarou pouts, going to his side to drape himself all over Tetsurou, who doesn't really mind. Bokuto is big and heavy, but… He doesn't really have a excuse other than he loves the feeling of his body pressed against his.

"Nothing behind the painting?" Bokuto shakes his head _no_ against his neck, and Kuroo can practically feel the negative energy radiating off of him in waves. "Uh, I thought there would be like a secret passage or something. But, hey—" before he can continue, Koutarou interrupts, jumping back with shining eyes.

"Really? I thought that too! Kuroo, we're like— connected or something! Probably! how cool is that?" Tetsurou blinks slowly at him, before answering.

"Really cool, Bo. Let's keep going," he answers with a soft, amused smile adorning his face.

"Okay!" he's probably too excited for this, but Tetsurou is too gone to care. How Koutarou managed to get this deep inside his heart in such a short time is behind him, but, well, Tetsurou is stupid when it comes to feelings. He probably didn't even notice that he very much liked him until he was asked out on a date.

They keep walking around, going through rooms and rooms —all thanks to Tetsurou, probably, but the way Koutarou keeps pointing out things is still cute as hell and makes the whole thing more entertaining— it's not until later, when they leave the place with some candy —that they ignore in favour of buying some ice cream— and a medal for winning without help, and are well on their way towards the train station, that the reality of their situation daws on him.

They walk side by side, enveloped in a soft, alluring and kind of romantic atmosphere, only enhanced by the quiet background noise the city makes at this time of the day, when the sun sets. Tetsurou risks a glance at Koutarou, and finds the other doing the same, only that the owl doesn't look away immediately like the cat does.

"Say, Kuroo…" when he turns around, the other is playing with his fingers in a nervous way. Kuroo blinks slowly, before clearing his throat to answer.

"Yeah?" at this, Koutarou looks up, eyes wide and hopeful.

"Can I kiss you?" it's said so fast, he almost doesn't catch it, but when he does, and the reality of the question dawns on him, he just stays quiet, staring. "Konoha said that I should ask first! That it was bad manners and also really offensive to kiss you without consent!" the silence, apparently, makes Bokuto more fidgety, as he just keeps babbling on and on.

Tetsurou blanks out. Has been for a while, actually. Since the question was first asked.

Of course Koutarou would want a kiss at the end of their date, it's a _date_ , dear God, it's an obvious thing.

So why? Why does he feel so jittery? He's pretty sure that his mouth is wide open, or at least forming a small ring, but there aren't any words coming out. Koutarou seems surprised, or something, too. His eyes are wide open, cheeks tainted red with a flush that goes down all the way to his neck, and his hands move around, gesturing wildly.

"Bo?" he finally manages to speak, and the other stops moving completely, hands hovering in the air without a purpose. "I— yeah, yeah it's fine," and he's sure both of them are inexperienced, and the kiss is going to turn horrible, so he leans down, eyes closed, bracing himself for the worst.

He doesn't get the worst. Not the best, but also not the worst.

Koutarou immediately jumps to action, spurred on by the cuteness of his everything —or so he assumes, if the amount of times the other has pointed out how 'adorable' he is, despite Bokuto definitely being the pretty one in their relationship, are an indicator or something—, his arms slung around Tetsurou's waist to pull him closer, flush against his own body. Kuroo's hands find themselves gripping at Bokuto's broad shoulders, mouth open in surprise before it's covered by another.

It’s like finally falling asleep after hours of not quite being pulled into oblivion.

As soon as their lips touch, he feels a wave of warmth wash over him, and if he didn’t know how much he craved this before he knows now. Tetsurou is stiff for approximately a millisecond before kissing him back, raising a hand to Koutarou’s cheek to stabilise their position, with his other arm still draped over his shoulders.

Because he’s kissing Kou, and he’s never felt safer.

His lips are warm even in the increasingly cool air, and they’re soft and taste like blueberries —they did have ice cream right after leaving the escape room event, so— but what’s most overwhelming is just how close they are. With all of their hugging and casual touches, this still feels like crossing a line.

Perhaps it’s because the realization of how much he loves him has just hit him and he can’t think rationally, but, even so, he can’t imagine anything to feel better than this.

He softly gasps for air when they break apart, face a bright red and eyes half-closed, and Bokuto almost jumps into action to kiss him again, Kuroo barely managing to keep them separated long enough for air to worn it's way back inside his lungs.

“Huh,” he breathes out. “That … Uhm.”

How extremely eloquent, not that Koutarou would say anything. At least Tetsurou got out something while he’s still rendered speechless, blinking owlishly at him with his mouth forming a cute, small 'o' with the way it's opened in surprise.

‘Sorry,’ he wants to say but not another word more comes out of his mouth. He moves his arm away only for the owl to grab his hand, run his thumb over it leaving a trail of that oddly comforting electric sensation across his skin. He’s staring at him and he can’t look away, there’s too many things keeping his gaze fixed on those annoyingly beautiful golden yellow eyes.

—They remind him of sunflowers, but sunflowers don't shine that much. Bokuto seems to hold the universe inside his eyes, apparently. Maybe Kuroo's too drunk in love to think properly—.

He opens his mouth again to try and say something —anything— and when he finally finds some sort of confidence in his own ability to speak, he has a long list of things to tell him right here and now but what ends up coming out is,

“Again, please?”

Not such a bad request, in hindsight, but the needy tone of voice he uses makes the tip of his ears red with embarrassment. It doesn’t bother Koutarou too much, because he complies the second the words are out of his mouth. Tetsurou follows, getting pushed against a building. And it’s too much, too much, _too much_ , until—

They break apart.

“Are you hard?” he manages to wheeze out, choking on air as he laughs so hard he’s sure he’s going to burst a lung. It’s more out of embarrassment than anything else, but Bokuto sputters, face red as a tomato.

“It’s a normal thing! Lips are sensitive!” he complains, and Kuroo only laughs harder, and people are staring at them —the two kids that were intensely making out in the middle of the street just seconds ago—, but Tetsurou couldn’t care less as he pulls Koutarou up, giving him a soft peck on the lips before finally breaking apart, ready to go back to his own home to scream into a pillow.

.

.

.

**FROM: BO ♡ − 19:29 PM**

I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M GONNA BE A SENPAI!!!

DO U THINK ILL BE CALLED BOKUTO-SENAPI

SENAPI

SENPAI

**FROM: ME − 19:30 PM**

yeah

you'll do great as a senpai

**FROM: BO ♡ − 19:30 PM**

THANKS!!

**FROM: ME − 19:31 PM**

hehe

i'm so excited

kenma isn't

but i know he's gonna be a great addition to the team

i want him to make more friends too

**FROM: BO ♡ − 19:32 PM**

HE WILL!!

and anyways…

YOU'RE PROBABLY MORE THAN ENOUGH KU!! YOU'RE REALLY COOL AND NICE AND SMART

BEST FRIEND!!!!

and

boyfriend

**FROM: ME − 19:34 PM**

qkxkqmmfmwmemaalldkx

THANKS

are you blushing

**FROM: BO ♡ − 19:34 PM**

NO

**FROM: ME − 19:34 PM**

sure you aren't ( Φ ω Φ )

.

.

.

They meet at the train station on a Friday, ready to board one together to go back home. They live in completely different zones, but Tetsurou's parents aren't home that weekend, so they agreed to meet up. Koutarou's hair is down when he runs towards Tetsurou, and it's single-handedly the cutest thing he's ever seen. He debates taking a picture until the other finally stands in front of him, starry-eyed and with a huge smile.

"I've got the best first years in my team!" Koutarou exclaims with confidence, not for the first time that week. Tetsurou hums in acknowledgement, happy to let him ramble if only because the sound of his voice is calming. "The new setter, Akaashi, is so cool! He even stayed with me practicing until now," at that, he perks up, looking around before dragging his boyfriend into the train and down onto the seats.

"That's surprising. It's really late," it is. The place is half empty; aside from them, the other people boarding are either office workers who stayed behind past their normal working hours and students, like them, who missed the other trains. Most of them aren't paying attention to them, and he's grateful.

The silence amongst the people inside feels almost sacred, and he doesn't want to speak too loud.

"Yeah! I guess he wanted to see how to set best for the ace," Koutarou admits, and Tetsurou snorts at his lack of care for the volume of his voice, letting his head fall on top of his shoulder, casually curling around him. Instantly, a hand comes around his body to hold him in place, "I love you," Koutarou blurts out, while he buries his face on his neck.

"I love you too," he answers lazily, but with as much emotion. He feels the arm around him tighten, pulling him closer, but he finds that he doesn't really care much.

"How's your team?" at Kuroo's inquiring sound at the question, Bokuto clears his throat with a soft blush. "You— You said that Kenma wasn't excited to join the team, right? And the other first years?"

"Oh, yeah," he yawns, then, after a while, snorts. "Kenma's a mess. He can't connect with anyone, especially with this other first year, Yamamoto, but I think he's doing that on purpose. Yamamoto told him he looked like an urban legend," Koutarou shakes against him, obviously trying to push his laughter down, and Tetsurou can't resist his smile. "Fukunaga is cool. A little quiet, though, but that's to be expected from first years."

"You weren't quiet on your first year."

" _You_ weren't. I was respectful and spoke when the situation was appropriate. I also controlled my voice level."

"That's just plain rude, Tetsu! Not nice!" Koutarou complains, and he giggles, soft, only for them to hear.

"Sorry, Kou."

.

.

.

There's something wrong.

Tetsurou frowns in concentration and worry once he notices it, setting his cup of scalding hot tea —Kou's tongue must be broken, or something, because just seconds ago he was drinking that as if it was nothing— down onto the coffee table before cuddling up to Koutarou again, trying to relax his expression into something more friendly. They're on the owl's house this time, during a particularly chilly weekend, watching crappy movies on the TV. Maybe he's overthinking, because for the past half-hour or so, Koutarou hasn't spoken much, and the only sounds between them range from Tetsurou's soft chuckles as he's faced with a ridiculous situation that gives him secondhand embarrassment to the soft noises of them eating the snacks they brought.

So yeah, bad. Bad enough that he starts getting uncomfortable, and suddenly his neck sounds like a good place to scratch, but he decides to not move too much, choosing to instead crack his fingers then lightly press his nails against the palm of his hands. He's never managed to break skin this way, or at least he never bled— there are some small scars, but one would have to stare long and hard to notice them. It seems that Koutarou's voice has become sorta like an anchor, keeping him calm and steady and _present_ , but it just sounds plain ridiculous. They've been dating for almost a year, he thinks, and they do actually fit together like a puzzle, but— it just sounds so terribly _wrong_ to be this attached to someone.

"Is something wrong?" he asks, if anything to keep himself away from his mind. He thinks that if he talks out loud, he might not hear his own, inner voice; so maybe that's why the lack of Koutarou's one seems so important.

If he was busy listening to him, he wouldn't have to focus on himself.

"Uhm? Oh," Bokuto looks puzzled, frowning for a split second, and Kuroo is afraid something terrible is going to leave his mouth. A pause, then— "No, not particularly. Why?" and he should be able to believe him, technically, but still...

There's definitely something wrong. His voice has a weird tilt to it, and he's not even trying hard to hide the way he's thinking, hard, about something. His lips are pursed, and Tetsurou itches to get closer and kiss that away, to get his _boyfriend_ to please tell him what's on his mind, but he doesn't. That would be too— out of nowhere.

"You were quiet," he tries again, with desperation, getting impossibly closer to the other, for lack of anything better to do. He still wants a deep, romantic kiss, and to be assured that everything's alright.

"This movie's just boring, that's all," he feels like screaming, because Kou is such a _bad_ liar, he's looking away, his eyes moving all around the room to not have to look back at Tetsurou, and it _hurts_ , deep inside, that his boyfriend is keeping secrets from him.

He consoles himself with the thought that it might be a surprise, or something. Their birthdays have passed long ago, their anniversary is still far away —it should be during the summer training camp again—, and there's not any holiday coming, so what's on his mind?

Koutarou's hum brings him back to the present, and he watches the small, still bright nonetheless, smile on his face.

"Akaashi would like this movie, I think," and then he snorts. Tetsurou has no idea what _Akaashi_ is like, but he must not be a very rational person, more like a hopeless romantic, if he were to like the ugly Christmas movie playing.

"Why are we watching a Christmas movie?"

"It's never too early for Christmas, honey," then Koutarou turns around and leans down, pressing their lips together for a sweet kiss, and Tetsurou thinks that it all might be alright.

When they separate, he follows him, almost completely straddling Koutarou as he deepens their touches. It's emotional, it's raw, and the movie has long since been forgotten by the time he gets his hands under the other's jersey. There's a gasp against his lips, and then suddenly he's being pushed away gently.

"What's wrong?" he asks instinctively, but his face must betray his earlier thoughts, because his boyfriend scrambles for an excuse and it's rather funny how hard he blushes.

"Tetsu, I promise you, it's got nothing to do with you, but I'm hard as hell," and that alone makes him snort, raising a hand to his face just so he can hide the ugly smile and embarrassing blush probably taking over it. Koutarou continues, sounding more like a little child caught in the middle of a mischief rather than the man he was just making out with. "I don't think I'll be able to last long like this."

"Oh my God," he manages to wheeze out, putting his hand down in favor of hiding his face on the other's neck. He can feel him shivering when small puffs of hot air leave his mouth.

"You're just— so pretty! And hot as hell! And your thighs are just so beautiful, and you feel so good against me and I can never get enough of you because you smell really good and you taste like the best dessert I've ever tasted," he stops him with a low hum, and a kiss on his adam apple that shows the way he visibly swallows after, nervous.

"Kou," it sounds more like a whine than a word, but Tetsurou does not care. He looks up, wearing that predatory look he's known for during matches, when he's about to block a really good spike. "You're making me like really, really horny. Keep that up and I'll make you cum in your pants," somehow, he manages to say all that with a straight face, before pressing down, straight onto his boyfriend's rock hard cock.

"Tetsu!" Koutarou complains, but his arms wrap themselves around Tetsurou, keeping him in place. He looks up with hopeful eyes. "Is this our first time?"

"Yours, maybe."

"That's— no way! What? You're telling me I'm not your first?" he feels obligated to stop the other before he goes into one of his sad moods and ruins the ambience, so Tetsurou sits a little bit straighter— as much as he can, anyways, with those beast arms still holding him flush against Koutarou.

"I was just kidding. Of course you're my first, I'd only do this stuff with you," as he says that, he leaves a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Oh, good!" and those are the last words that reach his ears before he's being pulled down against the couch, Bokuto looming on top of him with newfound excitement.

And, as his hands come together around his owl's neck and he's kissed until he's feeling giddy and floaty from the lack of air, he finds that he wouldn't change a thing if he were given the chance.

.

.

.

Many, many weeks ago, Tetsurou thought a stupid thought. He said to himself, ' _if given the chance, I wouldn't change a thing from this_ ' like the stupid idiot he was. But as he recently found out, he would. He would change so many things. Starting from when he thought everything was alright, and that Koutarou was keeping things to himself was not something he should really stress about, because his boyfriend kept acting the same, and the love in his gaze whenever they shared a look didn’t change.

He was wrong. He was blind.

At his side, his boyfriend keeps rambling on and on about school, about his home life and about volleyball, but somehow all of those things are connected, and not because of him, the main character of his life, no.

Because of one Akaashi Keiji, a _first year_ , of all things, so Tetsurou can’t even hate him for ruining his love life in peace.

He can’t even complain. In hindsight, he should have seen it coming, from the very first time Koutarou mentioned a kouhai in specific that kept getting his attention; should have prevented this, should have said no when he first got the confession, because Bokuto would have been _sad_ , alright, everyone is after getting rejected, but he would have gotten over it. One can’t just die from a broken heart.

—That’s a blatant lie and he knows it. There’s a thing called _the broken heart syndrome_ for a reason—. But if Koutarou likes someone else, even while they’re dating, then his affection for Tetsurou wasn’t that great, was it? And he’s probably overreacting, because from an outside point of view, his boyfriend still acts the same, still kisses him and hugs him and invites him to sleep over at his house.

It’s just—

Koutarou looks over to him, expectant, waiting for an answer. Tetsurou doesn’t know how to convey that his mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton, and there’s a knot in his throat that’s been there for a while now, and his eyes burn and he thinks that if he were to speak a single word, all of his vocal cords would strain and break, so he just blinks a few times before nodding with his head, and apparently that was the right choice. Bokuto relaxes once again against his own chair, and keeps babbling on without much problem.

Ah, there it is again. Akaashi. Not even a full minute of talking and he has been named again. So from an outside point of view, one just wouldn’t notice the small changes there are, but he does, and it’s so painfully reminiscing of the times when they weren’t dating still that Tetsurou wonders if Koutarou _really_ doesn’t know about his own feelings, if he’s still with Kuroo out of pity. He wouldn’t put it past him, after all, Bokuto is a nice person, nicer than most, and he would make himself suffer if that would mean someone else isn’t.

But Tetsurou _is_ , he is suffering with this. Because he’s seeing it, and he can almost feel it, the way Koutarou is drifting away from him, more and more, until he becomes unreachable. Like sand drifting down from his hands, and no matter how hard he clutches, the sand keeps falling and falling and he can never stop it. But was Koutarou ever reachable, really? Was there a chance for Tetsurou to stand next to him, to grab his hand and proclaim him as _his_? This _star_ was always in the sky, shining down at him, and Kuroo was the stupid one for ever thinking he would be able to reach its core instead of just bathing in its light.

 _There's still time_ , a voice whispers to him from the back of his head, and he wants to believe it, but he can't, because in reality there is time, still, but not enough, and if Tetsurou fools himself into thinking that he can stop the infatuation his boyfriend has on a teammate he'll just suffer more in the end, when it all comes crashing down on him. They don't go to the same school, they hardly spend any time together outside of the weekends, and yeah, they text and call each other regularly, but it's _not enough_ , not when he tries to compare it to Akaashi and the way they're from the same school, the same team, setter and ace, kouhai and senpai, _friends_. It's just not enough, not worth it, and Tetsurou should just accept it and give it up now.

But he doesn't want to— he can't. It's selfish, but he wants to enjoy every last bit of love that Koutarou has to give gim, he wants to keep him chained to himself until he finds the keys; he wants that star to keep him warm until the end. And when it comes, he will accept it like the responsible man he is. In fact, he's already preparing himself for it. He can almost picture it perfectly, ' _Kuroo, I think it is time we break up_ ', because Koutarou wouldn't dare call him by his first name before breaking his heart forever.

If there was one thing he would change, for sure, it was accepting that confession, because that was exactly what woke up his feelings, what made love stir up inside his chest, doing somersaults inside his body whenever he saw Koutarou. But alas, he hasn't figured out yet how to travel back in time, so at this point it's useless to think about that— about what-ifs. 

"Are you good, Tetsurou? Is something wrong?" there's a hand on the table, in front of him, and when he looks up, Koutarou has that expression that clearly tells him he wants affection, but there's also something else in his eyes, observing. Tetsurou hadn't even realized he had crossed his arms while deep inside his own thoughts, and he has half the mind to feel stupid, or something. Mostly, he feels ridiculous for being so obviously not paying attention, and he also wonders how, pray tell, his boyfriend didn't notice before.

He hurries to set a hand on top of Koutarou's, and the other immediately turns his around, interlacing their fingers. His features relax a little, but he still has that watchful stare that makes him look like a bird of prey— and isn't that what owls are, anyways? He doesn't have much more time to ponder over his thoughts, though. Koutarou is waiting for an answer.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. Everything's good," he answers with only a small bit of hesitation, which he considers a success, giving a one sided shoulder shrug and a half smile. He hopes the other won’t push the issue.

"You weren't paying attention," Bokuto is sitting straight now, leaning forward if only a small bit. He’s attempting eye contact, and would succeed if Tetsurou stopped looking down to avoid his all-knowing gaze. Or, well, it looks like that.

Sometimes his boyfriend just knows things out of nowhere —like that one time Kuroo was thinking of skipping school and got a text telling him to be a responsible student—. That one time it gave him a good laugh, but at the moment it just makes him want to be a turtle, if only to hide his head inside of his turtle shell. He hurries to keep answering.

"No, I wasn't. Sorry," he doesn’t intend for it to come out as sharp and cynical as it does, and Koutarou has to do a double take, tilting his head with narrowed eyes.

He looks like he doesn't believe him a word, but chooses to trust him— a very bad decision, really, because that's what Tetsurou did weeks ago that caused _this_ , whatever this is. Koutarou losing interest in him, or, more accurately, being interested in someone else. But he keeps talking, although this time he's intent on keeping Tetsurou in the conversation, too. It almost looks like a real date.

So when he gets home, the first thing he does is call Kenma, of course. The most easy and quick course of action would be, in all honesty, to just walk out and knock on the door of his neighbour, but he doesn’t think he can deal with Kenma’s sarcastic remarks and acerbic demeanour, in general. So he just goes straight to his room, sits down on his bed with both hands buried in his mess of a hair as he waits for his childhood friend to answer the phone.

It takes a while, of course, Kenma has never been the biggest fan of phone calls— if anything, he’d avoid using the phone to communicate at all. He just doesn’t do well with other people, not when it involves having to thoroughly think his actions and words as to not make a bad impression. That’s probably why he hasn’t given up on Tetsurou yet. Because they know each other since they were kids, so he doesn’t have to hold himself back with him, because Kuroo usually just thinks what’s best for himself, like right now: choosing a call over a face-to-face conversation is better. That way, he can just imagine Kenma’s annoyed and angry expressions instead of having to actually stare at them, and that would also mean not having to deal with his friend throwing pillows at him for his idiotic actions.

Yup, better.

He ends up having to call Kenma twice, and the second time he answers just before he gets sent to voicemail. Tetsurou thanks all gods out there for that, because if he had to stay another minute alone in his too-tiny bedroom he might have just started crying.

As it is, he lets out a breath of relief.

“You interrupted my game,” he hears him grumbling through the phone, and an almost childish smile overtakes his face. It’s easy to forget other things when he has to make sure Kenma doesn’t block him out of his life for ruining his perfect combo at some games.

“Sorry. Emergency,” he mumbles, not quite feeling sorry. Then he remembers it all, and suppresses a sigh. He really can’t escape his own mind, can he? Maybe listening to something loud with his headphones on, full volume, might help, or it might just give him a headache. Who knows.

“And it could not wait until I finished this level,” Kenma sounds skeptic at best, but mostly he’s just done with him, Tetsurou thinks.

“No, it couldn’t,” a deep breath, he has to steel himself. Get it together, Kuroo, you're better than this. “An emergency, uhm. I think— I think Bokuto doesn't like me anymore,” he mumbles, the volume of his voice getting lower and lower until what comes out is barely a whisper. Somehow, Kenma still hears him.

“Ah, so we're back to last names?” he can picture him perfectly, narrow eyed and with tight lips, staring in disbelief. Kozume always does that, stares too much, probably to figure out what's going on inside the head of whoever he's talking to. Usually Kuroo.

“It just feels wrong to use his first name right now.”

He wonders, briefly, if Akaashi and Bokuto are on first name basis, or if they've considered it before. Of course, they aren't, Bokuto always refers to his setter as _Akaashi_ , after all, but what if— what if he just does that to not make Kuroo suspicious, to make him feel better? It doesn't sound entirely impossible, if he's considering the reality of their relationship to be that Koutarou just hasn't left him yet because he doesn't want him to suffer.

“Understood,” his friend mumbles with a tone slightly different from usual, but Tetsurou isn't about to start analyzing everything, like he always does. His mind is too full right now. “Well if you're so sure of it, you should just talk with him. Break up before this gets out of control,” and it's a normal advice, the rational thing to do, the easiest way out. Rip off the bandaid, a clean cut.

But he just can't. He can't bring himself to let go of Koutarou, even if that would make everything a lot worse for both of them in the end.

“Yeah, you're right...” he sighs, not entirely sure himself about what to do.

“What? Just spit it out, Kuroo.” he sounds so fucking done with him, and Tetsurou wants to scream, but not at Kenma, at himself. He’s being so inconsiderate. He knows Kenma doesn’t like to talk about this stuff, doesn’t like to comfort people, fuck, how can he even consider himself a nice person.

No wonder Koutarou doesn’t want him anymore. He’d choose Akaashi, who sounds way more rational, calm, and overall _better_ than him over himself too if he was given the choice.

He should answer already. Kenma won’t be there waiting for him forever.

“I was just thinking...” he sighs, closing his eyes. He doesn’t want to talk about it now, doesn’t want to burden Kozume with his own stupid insecurities.

“You're saying 'just' a lot,” Kenma points out with annoyance in his voice, and even if he's not present, Tetsurou finds himself looking around the place, not focusing on one thing for too long. “Thinking about what?”

“I think he's falling for someone else now, um,” it sounds so _wrong_ saying it out loud. Tetsurou really needs to wrap this up, just spit the words out and hang up, leave Kenma out of this. He’s pretty sure that him and Akaashi would have a great friendship if he didn’t step in. And really, that’s all he is in the end, huh? Just some dude that suddenly got himself inserted into Kenma’s life, and now only makes it harder and harder for him. But maybe, if he got him another friend, one that’s more stable than he is, then maybe Kenma won’t completely abandon him when the time comes. He needs to just stop. Wrap this up. Get it over with, Kuroo. “Another guy, and he's— we haven't met, not really anyways, but he's—”

“Please tell me you're not comparing yourself to someone else just because of _this_ ,” ah, he got caught red-handed.

But really, how could he not? He hasn’t even _met_ Akaashi, has only ever heard from him and seen his picture a couple times popping up when Koutarou’s phone lit up with a new text, but he sounds like a literal _angel_. He sounds so perfect, and looks so beautiful. How Koutarou can still hug and kiss him without throwing up is a mystery to him, and will continue to be.

Tetsurou is _messy_ , to put it simply, and one would just have to take one good —or not, really— look at his hair to find that out. He doesn’t take much care of himself beyond what’s considered normal proper hygiene, and has almost permanent eye bags under his eyes, there from many, many nights spent just doing nothing, because he never got used to sleeping before one in the morning. He’s also big, tall, and has a deep voice, so he doesn’t— he can’t understand how he got a boyfriend like Kou in the first place. He deserves so much better. He _deserves_ Akaashi.

“I'm not good with words, Kuroo, and this is super awkward and embarrassing to say, but don't ever compare yourself to someone else if you're not going to address everything correctly,” he can _feel_ the discomfort radiating off of him in waves, and he’s never felt guiltier. He wants to reach out, to speak, to let Kenma know that it’s alright, he’ll figure it out alone, and if he can’t— well, Kenma doesn’t need to be troubled by that. “I don't know who the dude is, but you're smart, funny, a good person, handsome, athletic, you're— so much, sometimes I even doubt if you're actually human, but,” there’s a pause, then, like Kenma is steadying himself, preparing his next words. Tetsurou feels his breath hitch, wide eyes fixated on the wall in front of him. His shoulders shake, his entire figure softly trembling, and then Kozume finishes talking. “Kuroo, I wish I could give you my eyes, just so you could see how much you mean to me. You are so much more than what Bokuto made of you, and that's it,” and then there’s only the sound of their shuddering breathing, until Kenma hangs up.

Tetsurou drops his entire body onto his bed, face expressionless as he plugs in his phone to charge. Then, he turns around, under the covers, and curls up in a small ball. He has trouble swallowing, the lump in his throat only growing bigger until he manages to let it out.

It is then, and only then, that he allows the tears to fall freely.

.

.

.

It doesn't rain, that day, or the next one for what it's worth it, which just shows that the world couldn't care less about him even if it tried. It's just the Universe's way of telling him to get up, to stop moping around like a little kid and get it together. He’s Kuroo Tetsurou, Nekoma’s hot nerd, even if the girls at school refuse to acknowledge it, for some reason. His friends in the team say that it’s because he looks dangerous, although Morisuke usually cuts them off there to say that Kuroo just looks like a homeless man.

So he does. He gets his shit together, he stops curling under the covers, stops neglecting school work and volleyball practice. Everything reminds him of _he-who-shall-not-be-named_ , as nicknamed by one of his senpais, but it doesn’t have to. If he thinks hard enough about it, rationally enough, then things stop being associated to _him_ , and become just that, things, nothing important.

Kenma called it _detaching oneself from emotions_ , but Tetsurou thinks that that’s just overkill. He’s just controlling his emotions, focusing on what’s important, getting over Koutarou. He still answers the owl’s texts, though. He doesn’t have a reason to ruin a friendship over a failed relationship.

Rain comes a month later. And a half. Kinda. Six weeks, was it? Tetsurou has never been good with this stuff— counting the days and all that. In the end, they all just sorta blend together until his memory is a jumbled mess of conversations with his mom and whatever he last studied.

His science workbook stares expectantly at him once he raises his eyes from Kenma's history homework to stare at his window, finding the small pitter patter of raindrops annoying. It's late, now. Tetsurou doesn't have time to cry, to mourn a lost relationship. He did that already, did he not? If he remembers clearly —which he doesn't, but he's confident in himself— he definitely did. He obviously told Koutarou that they're over, and did not just avoid the whole situation altogether just to answer every question in the science workbook, and then the biology one. Even though both books were completed a few hours ago.

He just hopes that the teachers won’t be mad at him for doing it. But, now that he thinks better about it… Did he actually talk to Bokuto?

Ah.

Oh God, he didn't talk to Koutarou. So that's why Kenma had been glaring him when he went to retrieve his notebooks for his history homework— but he didn't complain, so fuck you Kenma for being stupidly good at making Tetsurou feel guilty without actually telling him the reason. He feels incredibly stupid, too, because _in what world_ would his ex keep talking to him as if nothing ever happened. He should have realized it sooner, damn, but he trusted his messed up memory and now this is all he gets. Fuck.

He should have known to not trust himself.

He feels a pit in his stomach and bites his lip in anger, and sadness, and grief, and tiredness, because he has already felt all of those emotions, but now they're directed at himself and he doesn't know if he can take it. He sighs, lugubrious face staring down at his bad imitation of his best friend's writing as he tries to detach himself, again.

This is wrong, a distant voice inside of his head reminds him, but he couldn't care less. He doesn't want to keep feeling like this, and the obnoxious emptiness is more than welcome if it means that the tears will stop burning his face with shame every time he tries to sleep. Because he wasn't enough, he wasn't pretty, or funny, or flirty, or— whatever he thought he was whenever he was with Koutarou. He wasn't any of those things, he played the game wrong. He focused only on himself, and now he's paying the consequences.

Maybe he should change. Become more serious, closed off, but still kind and admirable. Sorta like Kenma is. Like his senpais, who are so cool and strong without even trying. Of course, he has already considered all of these things, but he fears that he will only end up looking like a fool. Not that he isn’t one already.

He sighs. He’s tired of all this, of all these useless feelings that do nothing for him, only ruin his good looks when he has to show up to school with both eyes red-rimmed and his eye bags worse than ever. But he shouldn't avoid them, not entirely anyways. He knows the consequences his actions will bring him in the long run, but really, _is it that bad to be apathetic?_ He could avoid all this hurt, this longing, the forlorn silence that greets him whenever he arrives at the train station.

Thinking about that, _what happened?_ He used to meet Koutarou there every day after practice, he used to greet him with a big, tight hug, but not a kiss, because the looks were too much and he was conscious of that stuff back then. But now— now there’s nothing there. Kenma doesn’t talk much, and Tetsurou is not about to guilt his childhood friend for something like that, not when he’s already done so much for him. But sometimes he misses it— the boisterous laugh, the loving hugs, the soft and intimate touches.

He shouldn’t, but he does. Because, as always, Tetsurou keeps being a mess, going against his more rational side, and _fuck_ , the detaching is not working. He keeps repeating the words, _these emotions are just chemicals in the brain, this is just my brain fucking with me_ , but he’s overflowing, and he can’t stop the tears from falling freely down his face. Fuck. _Fuck_. He thought he was over this already, and it all hurts so much. He just wants to sleep, to rest, to be able to close his eyes and just say, _I’m done_ , and have everything be over.

But he can’t, because he’s a fucking idiot with a shitty memory who can’t seem to be able to tell the days apart from one another. _He’s grieving a lost relationship_ , and to hell with that. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to keep crying, to keep avoiding things. He doesn’t want to have to keep repeating that stupid chant or whatever he found in the Internet just because he learned to love, because he wore his heart on his sleeve, and then got stabbed on the back, or the sleeve, or whatever. He’s too tired to be thinking about metaphors.

He forgets that he has Kenma’s stuff resting on his lap when he tries to get up, and immediately everything falls to the floor. He crunches down, ready to pick everything up, itching to scratch his neck and bite his hands, if only to have pain distract him from his stupid overthinker mind.

At least there’s something good to take out of this whole situation: the books fell to the ground, so at least gravity is still there, working, keeping everyone on their feet. Great. He just wishes it was able to keep _him_ grounded. But he can’t keep moping around; he has to pick up Kenma’s notebook before he accidentally steps on it and dirties it or something. He also has to tidy up his room a little, books aren’t really his aesthetic so he doesn’t see a reason as to why he has one on every surface.

A sigh leaves his lips when his fingertips come into contact with the light cover of the notebook, before he picks it up and leaves it on his bed. Outside, the rain keeps shamelessly and soundly pounding Tokio —he has half the mind to worry if the clothes are outside drying or not, but he supposes that his dad would have already taken care of that, if that was the case—, so at least that is still working. Good.

He will have to talk to Koutarou sooner or later. He needs it.

He needs closure.

.

.

.

So.

He just kept avoiding the issue, and now he’s getting punched in the face by God —and Kenma, but he’ll do it with a volleyball, not his tiny, weak fist— for being a coward. But can he really be blamed? At some point, he decided 'I am gonna talk to Koutarou tomorrow,' then days started to blend in together again, and he lost track of time, and when reality slapped him it was way too late.

So. The summer training camp between schools.

He is, to leave it simple and short, _fucked_. Tetsurou doesn't really have that much time to beat himself up for being stupid, since they already arrived to Ubugawa and are stretching, but he's sure that Kenma will do it for him. A shiver runs down his spine in anticipation for it— but maybe it's a warning for something else.

Ah, there it is. It was a warning for _that_.

Fukurodani's entrance is as rowdy and attention-catching as always, especially now that they have Koutarou with them, as pumped as always. The rest of the players in the gym, apart from the captains that go up to them to greet them, just give them a short look and then move on to keep stretching. Tetsurou tries not to stare too hard.

There's someone, who is not Konoha or any other second year for the matter, next to Koutarou. Shorter, with a lean body, and what looks like soft, fluffy and wild black hair.

 _Akaashi_.

He turns around and focuses on getting his muscles all warmed up. He doesn't stare, he doesn't think. Not even under Kenma's watchful gaze, and Kai's caring hand resting on his shoulder, and when it's time to play, he gives it his all, like he always does. This time it's no different from all those practice matches played many, many nights ago.

He almost avoids the thought that their anniversary is but a mere four days away. Almost. It hits him face-first, or maybe it's the feeling of a volleyball colliding with his cheek. Distantly, Taketora yells at Kenma to take it seriously, and his senpai comes closer to ask him if he's bleeding.

Tetsurou would like to say _y_ _es, he's very much bleeding, thank you_ , except that his bleeding isn't a regular one, a physical one. He's bleeding from the heart, the box full of feelings he had locked and hid in the back of his mind starting to slowly stir up more and more with every 'hey hey hey!' that reaches his ears. But he doesn't. He just groans, clutches the left side of his face and makes small half-moon marks on the inside of his right hand, then announces that he's fine, good and dandy, not bleeding, perfect and ready to block some spikes.

If anyone notices the way his eyes avoid the ace-setter duo from Fukurodani, no one mentions it.

But he makes a decision once the matches from that day are over, right then and there, when faced with yet another failed block and a kick from Morisuke.

He's going to solve this. He needs it, now. It's a necessity. It's not like last time, when it was raining and his wounds had been rubbed raw one too many times, and he promised he was going to deal with his problems then got dragged under the current of _sad sad sad sad_.

He need closure. He needs to deal with his problems, face them head-first.

.

.

.

The moon shines on top of them, and the light it gives provides a perfect scenery. Soft. Soft, like Koutarou's hair was whenever Tetsurou ran his hands through it. Beautiful. Beautiful like gold eyes that shone with the strength of a million constellations, like someone had tore the universe apart to lock the stars inside of them. The light creates white streaks that run across the floor, like black roots showing in a badly dyed hair

Tetsurou sighs, quiet, tired. He moves forward to stand in front of Koutarou, and presses a hand to his shoulder, steeling himself, grounding himself down. Bokuto looks confused, too, like he doesn't know what's going on, like he, in reality, forgot they were dating.

In a bout of spontaneity, the words escape Kuroo's mouth with a dash of humour, hoping to hide the desperation, the fear, the longing, the forlorn feeling creeping up behind him, making him feel cold even in the refreshing warmth of summer nights, making him feel nauseous, making him feel— inhumane. Because there's no other way to describe it. His emotions aren't human, they're something else entirely, because no human would ever have the capacity to suffer like this.

"Do you even remember us?"

If the expression that crosses Koutarou's face is any indication, then he didn't do a very good job at keeping his emotions under control. It's not even a necessity to look at him to know, he can hear the words repeating inside his own head, the way his voice gave out on him, the way he trembled, the way he tried to muster up a smirk that probably ended up looking like a grimace.

He feels the need to look down and away, to bow his head, to bury his face inside his hands. He keeps his lips posed in a tight line, keeps his shoulders square. Koutarou looks surprised, with wide eyes and mouth open, but his hands are also clenched by his sides, and his gaze is averted, so Tetsurou doesn't really know what to make of it all.

He's too far gone by now to be overthinking stuff, anyways. Kenma is the expert on body language, not him, no matter how much he tries.

"What do you mean?" Koutarou whispers, sounding hurt, and damn, that's _something_. Why is he the one feeling hurt when Tetsurou had to go through months of whatever _this_ is? This constant burn behind his eyes, this tightening of his chest, the pit at the bottom of his stomach. Tetsurou was the one that had to deal with Koutarou slowly slipping away, not the other way around.

Then again, from another point of view, he supposes that if he turned around one day to notice that the one he always expected to be right behind him was kilometers away, he would be _something_ too.

"What do I mean? Ko— Bokuto," the way he says his name sounds way too bitter, too resentful, and not at all how he feels, but he lets it hang in the air in between them anyways, like a warning, a curse, a blessing. "Are we even dating anymore? Did we break up and I didn't notice?"

"It's not— Tetsu—"

"It's all good, really. I just wanna know why," a shuddering breath, and then the words are out before he can even stop them. Funny, that has happened a lot in the short —or long, whatever, he has long since lost track of time— time they've been out here. "What does he have that I don't? What makes Akaashi better than me?" a whisper, heartbroken, repressed emotions pouring out of every wound hastily covered with a band-aid.

_Broken heart syndrome, or takotsubo cardiomyopathy, is a reaction your heart has to a surge of stress hormones caused by an emotionally stressful event._

He wonders if this counts as one of those emotionally stressful events. How pathetic would it be if he dies just because his first boyfriend, his first love, his first _everything_ , fell out of love with him?

"Nothing," Koutarou answers, stern, stiff, with narrowed eyes and a straight posture.

"Don't fuck with me, Bokuto," Tetsurou makes a pause, runs his hand through his hair, messing it up more than before. Is that really all he's capable of doing, messing things up? Then. "Please, I need this, just— just answer me," he pleads in such a small voice, and it's embarrassing, disappointing, but he can't bring himself to feel those things. He's just so deeply _tired_ , and maybe that's a recurring theme in his life, but he couldn't care less. He wants this over with.

"I can't," Koutarou sounds desperate, confused, and he takes a step forward. Tetsurou stumbles back, doesn't dare to look up and meet those eyes that hold the stars inside of them. He knows he'll give in if he does, and he can't afford that. "I can't compare the two of you, Tetsu. You're two different people entirely and I— I can't understand what you're asking me here."

"Fuck," Tetsurou blinks back tears, having trouble maintaining his posture in the face of the pure, _raw_ emotion Bokuto manages, and he just _keeps calling him by his first name_. "Don't come any closer. Please— just," he struggles to breathe, to voice his thoughts, and deep down he knows that the reason why Koutarou doesn't jump to hug him right then and there is because he specifically asked him not to. "Let's just get this over with," he sounds disinterested, annoyed, back straight and eyes looking straight to his side, at a big crack on the wall. His eyes narrow, and he hates himself for this. He doesn't sound like the usual him— he sounds like the version of himself that Kenma would look in the eyes, the version of himself that would finally make Kenma give up and say 'I do not like the person you have become,' apathetic and detached and cold and so, so numb.

"How? You can't even say the words, Tetsu," Koutarou finally gives in, hunching over as one would do after getting all the air punched out of their lungs. He looks in pain. He's suffering. Tetsurou keeps his gaze locked on the crack on the wall. "Please don't leave me, please. I don't know what I did, but I'll solve it, I'll change. Please don't abandon me," he pleads, desperation leaking into his voice even when he tries to hide it. Desperation for what, Tetsurou doesn't know. After all, he has Akaashi there, and this sure is taking a weight off of his shoulders, even if he doesn't realize it.

"I'll— I," he closes his eyes, breathes. Calm down. Get it together. He looks at Koutarou again, this time ready for the hurt and the tears, "I'm breaking up with you," he says it so seriously, he almost thinks he might entirely mean it.

"Why?" a scream, loud enough to make him flinch and look back up. They're far away from the classrooms that are being used to sleep that he doesn't have to worry about anyone hearing them, because he thought of this, and planned it correctly, and Bokuto has always been loud anyways.

"Don't make this any harder than it has to be," stern, serious. He makes a show of not caring about the tears now free falling down Bokuto's face, makes it a competition to show a little emotion as possible.

—He's winning, but who would lose when faced with the way Koutarou doesn't shy away from his feelings, when faced with the way he always lives his emotions one hundred percent—.

"Why? Answer me!" Bokuto runs a hand through his hair, then another for good measure, and he hesitates before taking a step forward. Just like before, Tetsurou takes one backwards, but this time he doesn't stumble. He's more secure about this, he's decided he's gonna get it over with tonight.

"Goodbye, Bokuto," he says it sharply, in an acerbic tone of voice, trying to convey all of the hurt he's been feeling for these past few months. It either doesn't work, or works too well, judging by Bokuto's reactions to the two words.

"You can't just— leave like this!" he looks wild like this, eyes wide, hands hovering in the air, hair in a disarray. His eyes, the ones that Tetsurou found himself admiring so many nights because of how bright they shone, how many constellations they held inside, are glassy with unshed tears.

Not that they're going to stay that way, hidden behind his eyelashes, for long. He can already notice the first one falling, sliding down Bokuto's face, and has to bit down on his tongue to stop himself from wincing, from gasping, from pulling his own arms around Bokuto in a hug.

"I wish I'd never met you," and, despite it being the truth, it feels painful to say. More than anything, he wishes he could believe himself when he says those words, wishes the bitterness and the sadness and the tiredness were enough to overcome the love and the longing, but not apparently. Still, Bokuto looks like he believes him, with the way he gasps, standing straighter with one hand half covering his mouth. He looks _hurt_ , he looks in pain. And why? What does he have that makes him suffer? Why is it that Tetsurou is the one feeling guilty here when it's all Bokuto's fault?

He takes one deep breath, then looks down at the owl with cold eyes.

"Goodbye, Bokuto," then he turns around and leaves, leaving a mess of shuddering breaths and choked cries behind him.

Somehow, even when he's sure this was the right choice and that they will get over this, eventually, he still finds himself wishing someone had grabbed his hand, has forced him to stay put and _think_ a little bit more.

No use in thinking about that stuff, anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> a kiss on the nose means something like uhh betrayal? like you shouldnt trust that person to be faithful to you lol so yeah that was foreshadowing


End file.
